Vengeful (Villains #2)(96)
Victor’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just a rumor,” said Dom, “but apparently some of the higher-ups think he should be playing a more active role.”
“They wouldn’t do something that stupid.”
But then, people did stupid things all the time. And Eli could charm almost anyone.
“Anything else?” he asked.
Dominic hesitated, rubbing at his neck. “It’s getting worse.”
“I’ve noticed,” said Victor dryly.
“Yesterday Holtz found me heaving my guts out in a closet. And last week I broke into a cold sweat in the middle of a training seminar. I’ve claimed hangover, PTSD, anything I can think of, but I’m running out of lies.”
And I’m running out of lives, thought Victor, pushing off the lockers.
“Good luck,” called Dom as he left.
But Victor didn’t need luck.
He needed a doctor.
*
SYDNEY stepped out into the sun on the rooftop garden of the Kingsley building.
It was a blue sky day, but the air was still cold. It made her think of the lake, her thirteenth birthday, the skin of ice over the melted water. Her fingers tightened on her cell. The text had come in while she was unpacking, three short words that made her nervous.
June: Call me. Now.
Sydney called.
It rang, and rang, and when June finally answered, all Syd heard was music, too loud and fraying at the edges. June’s lilting voice broke through, telling her to hold on, and a second later the music dropped away, replaced by the low hum of an engine.
“Sydney,” said June, her voice high and clear. “Just the girl I need.”
“Hey,” said Syd. “We just got to Merit. What’s going on? Are you here?”
“On my way back,” said June. “Had a bit of work outside the city. Look,” she went on, “I need you to do something for me.”
There was a tension in June’s voice, an urgency Syd had never heard before.
“What is it?” she asked.
A short exhale, like static on the line. “I need you to tell me where Victor is.”
The words fell like a rock in Sydney’s stomach. “What?”
“Listen to me,” pressed the other girl. “He’s in trouble. There are some really dangerous people in Merit, and they know he’s here, and they’re looking for him. I want to keep him safe, I do—and I can—but I need your help.”
Safe. Syd’s mind tripped over the word. If Victor was in trouble—but why was he in trouble, and how did June know? Who was looking for him? EON?
She started to ask, but June cut her off.
June, who’d never even raised her voice.
“Do you trust me or not?”
She did. She wanted to. But—
“Where is he, Sydney?”
She swallowed. “Merit Central Hospital.”
II
THE DAY BEFORE
MERIT CENTRAL HOSPITAL
IT was seventeen minutes past five.
Victor leaned back against Dumont’s gray sedan in the hospital parking garage and scrolled through Dom’s texts as he waited for the doctor. The buzzing in his skull seemed to ratchet up as he skimmed the most recent times.
3 minutes, 49 seconds.
3 minutes, 52 seconds.
3 minutes, 56 seconds.
4 minutes, 04 seconds.
The stairwell door clattered open across the garage.
Victor glanced up and saw Dumont, dark skin, gray hair, head bowed over his tablet as he headed toward his car. Toward Victor.
Victor didn’t move, simply waited for the doctor to come to him.
“Dr. Dumont?”
The man looked up, brows furrowing. Victor thought he saw something cross the doctor’s face. Not surprise, exactly, but fear. “Can I help you?”
Victor studied him, fingers flexing. “I certainly hope so.”
Dumont looked around the parking garage. “I’m off work,” he said, “but you can make an appointment—”
Victor didn’t have time for this—he took hold of the doctor’s nerves, and twisted. Dumont buckled with a shocked cry. He clutched his chest, sweat breaking out along his brow.
Having made his point, Victor let go.
Dumont sagged back against his car. “You’re—an EO.”
“Just like you,” said Victor.
“I don’t—hurt people,” said Dumont.
“No? Then how does your power work?”
Dumont let out a shaky breath. “I can see—how people are broken. I can—see how—to put them back together.”
Relief swept through Victor. Finally, a promising lead.
“Good,” he said, stepping toward the doctor. “Show me.”
Dumont shook his head. Victor was about take hold of the doctor’s nerves again when the stairwell door swung open and a small huddle of nurses stepped out, talking animatedly. A car beeped nearby. Victor shifted to block their view.
“Not here,” muttered Dumont.
“Then where?” asked Victor.
The doctor nodded at the hospital. “My office is on the seventh—”
“No,” said Victor. Too many eyes. Too many doors.